


It's Only For a Year

by KoraKwidditch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Big Dick Draco, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Harry Potter, Pining Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Snarky Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy, Wet Dream, size queen Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch
Summary: Invited to Malfoy Manor, the last thing Harry expected was to be propositioned to be Draco’s fake boyfriend. Nor did he expect to agree, but to his utter surprise, that’s precisely what he did.Now, haunted nightly by dreams plagued with the blond wizard and his wicked mouth, Harry doesn’t know what to do. There’s only a week left until the contract is done, but Harry doesn’t want it to end.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 566
Collections: Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut





	It's Only For a Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/gifts).



> First off, I would like to thank FaeOrabel and WordSmithMusing's for hosting this fest with me. We all had a blast creating this and bringing it to fruition, and now that it's over it feels a bit bittersweet (though I'm very excited to read everyone's stories!) Seriously go check out the collection because they are GREAT works. 
> 
> Secondly, I want to gift this fic to Fae because of that thing you didn't do that I said I would write a fic for you if you kept to it! ;P 
> 
> Thank you to my AlphaBeta's ArielSakura and FaeOrabel, and to my Alpha's WordsmithMusings and MalfoysRaven. I seriously appreciate the shit out of all of you. 
> 
> My prompts are below
> 
> Trope: Fake Dating  
> Kink: Erotic Dreams   
> Ice Cream: Jamoca 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Russian Translation: ficbook.net/readfic/10350234/26645161

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/50369726268/in/dateposted-public/)

**It’s Only For a Year**

Harry hadn’t thought about Draco- _Fucking-_ Malfoy since he stood up for him in the Wizengamot. But now, as he stood at the imposing front door of Malfoy Manor, he couldn’t keep his mind off his childhood rival. 

“Hello, Harry.” 

Harry took in the woman before him with wary eyes, and an uncomfortable sensation settled over him. The matron stood at the entrance to the Malfoy Manor just behind their house-elf, a small smile gracing her face. 

“Hello, Mrs Malfoy.” 

“Please, call me Narcissa. Come in.” She stepped further into the Manor, and Harry followed, blinking in surprise at the interior. It had completely changed since the War two years ago. The floors, once dark and caked with the blood of his friends, were now a white marble so bright Harry had to squint his eyes from the reflecting sun. 

“I hope you’re well, Harry. I must say we’ve been following your career closely and are very impressed,” Narcissa said, leading them to a room off to the left of the foyer. 

Harry nodded mutely, unease coursing through him as he was led farther into the Manor. Taking a deep breath, he gently patted the pocket of his trousers to ensure his wand was still there. He was an Auror, damn it. He could take down dark witches and wizards with ease, but the thought of tea with Narcissa Malfoy made his blood turn ice cold. 

Narcissa gestured to the light blue couch across from her when they entered the sitting room, and Harry was again startled at the modern and inviting decor. He took the seat reluctantly, perching just on the edge of the settee should a need arise to bolt from the room. The tinkling sound of a bell filled the space, and just as suddenly as the sound started, a different house-elf from the one that opened the door popped into view. A tea tray floated in from the door, settling on the table between him and Narcissa. 

“That will be all, Tivy.” The witch dismissed the elf, taking her seat in the matching settee opposite Harry and pouring them both tea. Once they had each taken sips of the steaming liquid, Narcissa set her cup down and folded her hand demurely in her lap. It was an odd thing to see; it looked as if she suddenly lost all the confidence she previously had on. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here. So firstly, I must thank you for agreeing to come. We were concerned you would not.” 

Harry nodded, choosing to stay silent. The bergamot of the tea sat thick in his throat, and he was sure had he chosen to speak at that moment, his voice would come out gruff. 

“When we read the Daily Prophet article that came out a month ago, I must admit we were surprised, but well, it gave us an idea that we hope you would be willing to help us with.” 

His stomach dropped. He knew exactly what she was inferring with the damned Prophet article. Those bastards behind the paper had confronted Ginny mere moments after their break-up was announced. Harry couldn’t blame her for telling them why they had split, she was still hurt, and he understood the reason. But it wasn’t his fault he was gay, and he hoped that one day she would understand him. 

Of course, the Daily Prophet had run a front-page article the next day. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the headline. _“Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Breaking Women’s Hearts Across The World”_ right next to the following article, _“Harry Potter, and a Possible Secret Lover? Who Could It Be?”_

Hermione had known of his preferences since they hunted Horcruxes; Harry had confided in her when Ron left. The guilt of breaking up with Ginny the first time ate away at him, the locket doubling his feelings. Ron, however, was much harder to tell. He only knew a day before Harry broke up with Ginny the second, and last, time. Ron had told Harry that, though he was angry over Harry leading Ginny on, they were still best mates—nothing could ever change that. Harry was thankful for Ron; he had helped take the blow of outrage from Molly and the rest of the Weasley Clan over the last month. 

Pulled from his musings, Harry watched as Narcissa waved her hand, and a rolled-up length of parchment floated into view. 

Curiosity piqued, Harry finally spoke. “What is that?” 

The amused look Narcissa gave him made Harry wish he had remained silent. 

“Harry, as you know, our stance in the War was... misguided and wrong,” the witch shifted in her seat, the uneasiness of her words evident on her features. “We regret the side we chose, and have since paid dearly for it, though not as bad as we could have. We appreciate your testimony at our trials, especially Draco’s.” 

Harry blushed under Narcissa’s praises and set his teacup down. “It was the right thing to do.” 

And it truly had been. Harry had no respect for Lucius, but a life sentence to Azkaban for Narcissa and Draco was certainly too extreme. The Malfoy’s were desperate fools who clung helplessly to the edge of Voldemort’s robes for most of the War, only to turn and flee at the end. 

Draco had never given them away, and Narcissa had lied to Voldemort’s face; without them, Harry could very well be dead right now instead of sitting here having a very uncomfortable conversation with the Malfoy matron. They had all been sentenced to a year with no wands and house arrest, and until now, Harry never heard from or saw them. They still held a seat on the Wizengamot, but never attended the meetings. 

Had Narcissa not invited Harry for tea, he would have thought them gone from Wizarding England. 

“We require your assistance once more,” Narcissa continued, waving her hand over the roll of parchment. It unfurled and floated to Harry, and he took the paper gingerly, scanning the words written on them. 

“My son is suffering. Every day is a struggle for him; his friends have abandoned him; he has no prospects, no future. He sits in the library every day reading books, barely eats and hardly ever leaves the house. It’s been... very tough for all of us, but especially on him.” the witch blotted her eyes with a conjured handkerchief. “When Lucius and I read that article in the Prophet, we came up with this plan, and that is why you’re here, Harry.” 

Harry finished reading the parchment— _contract_ —floating before him. This was lunacy; there was no way he could agree to this. 

“We want you to date Draco. Pretend to be in a relationship with him for one year to elevate him back to where he should be, or at least higher than he is now. With your backing, he could have a job at the Ministry, or even just leave the house.” 

Harry shook his head, blinking rapidly at Narcissa. His brain couldn’t fathom what the witch was asking of him. 

“Pretend to... _date_ Malfoy? Is he—but I’m—”

“Draco shares in your preferences,” Narcissa smiled gently at Harry, picking her teacup back up. “We love our son, Harry, and we don’t care who he chooses to love.” 

Her eyes burned into his as she sipped her tea, and Harry’s heart sped. What was he supposed to think of this? Malfoy was... _Malfoy._ No one would believe this— _them_ , being together. 

“Maybe if you speak to him, you’ll be able to come to a decision.” 

Harry couldn’t think of a worse idea.

Narcissa set her cup down again and called for Tivy, and the house-elf popped into view a moment later. “Have Lord Malfoy and Draco come meet us in here.” 

As the elf disappeared, Harry’s mouth had gone dry, his stomach curling into knots at the idea of meeting both Malfoy men again after so long. Their ire and arrogance still made Harry’s blood run cold. Narcissa, even though Harry was always nervous around her, proved to be a reasonable person. Lucius, however, was not. And he had raised his son to be the exact same way. 

“Does Malfoy even know about this?” Harry asked, suddenly wary at the thought of having to deal with Draco discovering this... _scheme_ for the first time.

“Of course. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. He was the one who suggested I meet with you in private first. And I must insist that you call him Draco if you agree to this.” 

Harry suddenly felt the urge to sprint from the room, his legs filling with nervous energy as the moments ticked away. Why was he even entertaining this idea? 

“What do I get from this in return?” 

Narcissa’s red-painted mouth curled into a polite smile that was sure to be something she put on when she had to be diplomatic. “Name your price. Would you like to own a quidditch team? We’ll purchase one for you. Anything you want, we will make happen.” 

Harry contemplated for a moment as he stared at the contract. What was something he wanted? He had his parents fortune, plus Sirius’s, and the money given to him from the Ministry at the end of the war—his Hero Reward, as they called it. He donated so much of it to reparations, and yet he had more than he knew what to do with. No, he didn’t want anything material. But there was something even better that came to mind. 

When he voiced this to the witch, she outright laughed, politely and behind her hand, but it was still a shocking sound to Harry’s ears. She readily agreed to the terms, saying they would make it happen. 

Not even a minute later, the wooden door swung open silently, revealing two tall blond figures on the other side.

Lucius Malfoy looked at him with a predatory gaze, his icy eyes unyielding in their discontent. Draco stood behind him, and though nearly the same height, looked small in comparison. Harry blinked, realising just how much Draco looked like his father. They had the same pale hair, sharp jaw, and grey eyes, but the rest of his features favoured Narcissa. The perfectly straight line of his nose and the shape of his mouth was nearly identical to his mothers. 

But that smirk, that damned smirk that mockingly curled his lips when he finally looked at Harry was all Draco. 

“Harry has agreed to our terms,” Narcissa said as the two men entered. 

Draco settled next to his mother, leaning one elbow against the arm of the settee and the other across the back. His legs splayed open, the black pants rumpled as though he had been curled up somewhere. The rest of his attire was in a similar state of unruliness, and Harry could spy dark circles under his eyes as they stared at him discerningly. It was so unlike Draco that it was a bit startling—even his usually impeccable hair was in disarray, the strands ruffled and messy. 

Lucius, however, looked as he always did; full of contempt and as though he owned the world, and he looked relatively healthier than the last time Harry saw him at his trial. Two years ago, Lucius was gaunt and sickly, as if all the energy and life had been zapped from him. But now he looked quite the opposite. 

“And he’s named his price?” Lucius asked, standing tall next to his wife. Those eyes made of ice flitted between Harry and Narcissa. 

“He has.” Narcissa’s lips turned upward with another smile. “He wants us to purchase the Daily Prophet.” 

Draco burst with a sudden laugh, the sound echoing in the small room. He sat up and leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Harry with a feral grin. Harry had never noticed the surreal mixture of silver and blue that swirled in his irises; it was as if he stared into liquid pools of mercury. Harry realised with a start that he had grown into quite a handsome man.

“So Potter wants to control the newspaper, does he?” Draco said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“Do you no longer want my help, Malfoy?” Harry replied, matching the abrasive tone. They glared daggers at each other, and Narcissa sighed impatiently. 

“Boys, please; we must keep this civil. Harry has named his terms, and your father and I have accepted them.” A quill materialised in her hand, and she handed it to Draco. “Signing this contract binds you two together for the next year. Do you agree to the terms?” 

Draco pinched his lips together, snatched the contract from Harry’s hands and looked it over. “We can’t see other people the entire time we’re together?” 

“Is there a line of suitors out the door?” Harry quipped, grinning at the scowl he received in response. 

With a flourish, Draco signed his name, handed his mother the quill and contract, and leant back in his seat to stare out the nearby window. The sudden shift in his demeanour was a bit off-putting, but Harry paid that no mind. 

The parchment was passed back to him, and with a thick bob of his Adam’s apple, Harry signed his name too. 

_Eleven Months Later_

Harry sighed as he watched Draco flit from socialite to socialite, the all-black tuxedo stark against the pale dress robes of the wizards and witches around him. Even at a Winter Ball, he insisted on dressing in dark colours. Not that Harry complained too much, he admired the way the black fabric hugged his broad shoulders and long legs. 

He was only allowed to look, after all. Their fake relationship was just that. Fake. They came to parties together, occasionally had public dates, but none of it was real. The worst part of it was that, at some point, Harry was hit with a sudden realisation that he had developed _feelings_ for the man. For Draco- _Fucking_ -Malfoy. 

And it all started with those fucking dreams. 

They began normal enough, Draco flitting through his dreams sporadically. A flash of grey eyes would appear, or he would materialise full-bodied; like that one dream, where he and Draco flew around the Quidditch Pitch at Hogwarts. 

Then, one night about three months ago, they turned much _much_ worse. 

Harry had dreamt of sucking Draco’s cock. 

He had woken, startled, but with a raging hard-on, and nearly ran to Hermione’s flat in panic. She took in the haphazard state of him, jeans still unbuttoned and sweater on backwards, and it was like she instantly knew. Hermione pulled him into her and Viktor’s flat and made him tell her everything. 

“I knew it wasn’t going to work,” she had said to him while they drank tea. “Pretending to be each other’s boyfriend’s was a ludicrous idea. Your feelings were bound to get muddled.” 

When Harry had finally gone home, a startling discovery went with him. 

He was in love with Draco Malfoy. 

The dreams had since only grown with more intensity, and as Harry watched his fake lover give a woman his trademark smirk, he knew tonight’s dream would be no different. 

Downing the contents of his glass, Harry ordered another and made his way to the large terrace, the stuffiness of the ballroom overwhelming him. As Harry Potter, he was expected to attend, required to by Kingsley, but these Ministry Gala’s bored him to tears, everyone always dressed to the nines and looking to line their pockets. He supposed this was why Narcissa asked him to pretend to date Draco, and he had undoubtedly not wasted the opportunity. 

Now coming up on their last week in the contract, Draco had nearly all of Wizarding England eating from the palm of his hand. Everyone wanted to either know him or be him. For Harry’s part, he didn’t have to do much; just introduce him to the right people. It wasn’t surprising that Draco knew how best to work people, knew when to compliment, or when to gossip; knew when it was prudent to mention business prospects or discuss personal matters. He truly had been bred for this world. 

At the very least, Harry no longer had to deal with the Daily Prophet. After the Malfoy’s purchased the company from the current owner—for a much larger sum than it was worth—Harry hired an editor that would make sure no more scathing articles about his life, or the lives of his friends, would be printed.

The chilled night air hit his skin as he walked out the doors, moving towards the edge of the terrace, and Harry leant against the railing, taking in the vast gardens below. As the smell of the blooming gardenia filled his nose, he heard the sound of the door behind him open and close. 

Turning, he met those piercing grey eyes that haunted his dreams. 

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Draco asked as he matched Harry’s stance on the railing. 

Harry took a sip of his champagne, allowing a moment for the bubbles to pop in his mouth before swallowing. “Just needed some air.” 

“Well, I’m ready to go if you are.” 

“You know we only have a week left until the contract ends.” The words were out before he could stop them, and anxiety swelled in Harry’s chest at the uncomfortable silence that followed. 

Draco gently pried the champagne flute from Harry’s hands and downed the contents. Setting the glass on the railing, he took hold of Harry’s hand. The feel of his warm, calloused palm sent an electric pulse from his fingers to his groin. 

“I know.” 

They were the only words Draco uttered as his fingertips gently traced over the faint scar given to Harry by that cursed quill in their fifth year. Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Harry watched Draco’s pointer finger move over the letters. _I must not tell lies._

His eyes flicked up to Draco’s face, and grey eyes turned molten silver as they met his green. 

“What if I don’t want it to?” 

Harry’s voice came out in barely a whisper, the words terrifying him. He didn’t know if Draco felt the same; he didn’t know if what they had between them was truly just a farce or if, like Harry, something had changed for him at some point. 

Either way, Harry had to know. 

He watched as Draco’s throat bob, and his finger’s stopped their ministrations to lay fully against Harry’s hand. 

“Harry, I—” Whatever it was he was about to say, Harry never found out, because instead of finishing the sentence, Draco surged down to kiss him. 

Harry let out a small squeak of surprise before melting into the taller man. His shoulder pressed against Draco’s chest as he moved closer, Draco’s hand gripped his tightly while the other moved to tangle in his wayward hair. When Harry let out a small sigh of pleasure, Draco responded by pulling him even harder against him. 

Breaking the kiss, Draco leant his forehead to Harry’s, his breath coming in small puffs. A smirk curled his lips as he looked at Harry, his hand moving up his arm to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I don’t want it to either.” 

Harry chuckled and turned to face him, circling his arms around Draco’s waist and pressing his face into his firm chest. Draco was much taller than him, and it was one of the things that drove Harry mental―in a _very_ good way. Breathing in Draco’s piney cologne, Harry chuckled again. 

“What’s so funny?” Draco asked, his hands running soothing lines up and down Harry’s back. 

“Just... I’ve been dreaming about you for _months_ , and I—”

“You’ve been dreaming about me?” Draco cut him off, pulling away slightly to look down at Harry. 

Harry could feel his face flush at his admission, and he quickly tried to rebury his face in the soft tuxedo jacket.

“Oh no, Potter,” Draco said sternly, though Harry could hear the amusement in his voice. “You’re going to tell me _exactly_ what kind of dreams you’ve been having.” 

Harry gripped the back of Draco’s suit, trying as hard as he possibly could to keep his face hidden. “Dirty ones,” he mumbled. 

There was a chuckle, followed by an amused question, “I’m sorry? Couldn’t quite hear you.” 

Harry gave an exasperated huff. He supposed he had no choice but to admit it all now. Pulling back, but keeping his eyes firmly planted to the black buttons in front of him, he repeated his answer. 

Draco placed a finger under his chin and tilted Harry’s head up, their gaze’s meeting. He had expected Draco to be grinning, but instead, his face looked serious, a fire in his irises that had Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. 

Harry felt his pulse jump in his throat as the hand moved up to cup his face, Draco’s thumb tracing the line of his bottom lip. 

“Tell me about them,” Draco whispered, staring at Harry’s mouth. 

Harry swallowed thickly again, unsure where to begin. “I dream about us...together.” 

“I understand that much, Potter,” Draco smirked at the glare Harry gave him. “I meant what _happens_? Do I fuck you senseless, or do you fuck me? I hope you dream my cock is big, because it is.” 

Snorting, Harry couldn’t help but retort, “I’m sure we all know by now how big your cock is Draco. You’ve obviously been proud for some reason, and it certainly isn’t your winning personality.” 

Growling, Draco leant forward and captured him in a kiss again, tongue darting out to taste Harry’s. This time, they both groaned, and the kiss turned heated, Harry pulling against Draco’s back to press him closer. He could feel a hard length press into him and knew instantly that it wasn’t his wand, and that Draco certainly wasn’t exaggerating about the size. 

Gryffindor courage filled him knowing he caused this kind of reaction, and Harry pulled back, panting for breath but determined. 

“Yes. Yes, I dream about you fucking me and about sucking your cock and—fucking all of it. I desperately want them to be real, every morning I wake up and wank off to images of your mouth around my cock, or mine around yours—” 

Large hands reached up to twine through his hair, mussing it more than it naturally was. The sudden force of Draco’s mouth on his again had Harry moaning, and they hungrily devoured one another. Their teeth clashed together as they learnt each other’s mouths, and when Draco began to pepper kisses across Harry’s cheek and down his neck, they both jolted in surprise when the terrace door opened behind them. 

Draco broke their kiss but kept Harry hidden from view, his jaw flexing as his teeth clenched together. His eyes searched Harry’s, and with a quick gaze to his mouth, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Harry drew his wand from his trouser pocket and side-longed them to Grimmauld. As they dropped into the kitchen, Draco wasted no time before claiming Harry’s mouth again. The force of it pushed him against the table, both of their hardened cocks pressing together between the barrier of fabric. 

Now alone, Harry was free to moan as loudly as he wanted, and he did, the sound echoing in the quiet house as Draco bit his lip. 

Resuming the determined kisses on Harry’s neck again, Draco nibbled the tender flesh, causing his skin to break out in goosebumps. His hips rocked forward, desperate for some type of friction, the ache of want and need for release straining his cock against his pants. 

“Tell me again,” Draco whispered between kisses, “what happened in your dream.” 

Harry gripped the front of Draco’s shirt as teeth sunk into his collar bone, hurried fingers working the buttons of his white shirt open. The feel of nails scraping his flesh caused his back to arch, and he let out another breathy moan. 

“I’ve dreamt,” Harry started, gasping as Draco’s lips trailed down his chest and latched onto a nipple, “that you sucked me dry.” 

Draco’s tongue flicked over the hardened bud, and Harry bucked his hips again. 

“Fuck, Draco.” Harry groaned, knowing he was being teased, and as Draco’s hands gripped his hips to keep him still, Harry swore again. 

“Continue.” Draco’s deep voice mumbled against Harry’s chest as he peppered kisses across to the other nipple, working it the same way.

“I’ve dreamt of taking your cock completely down my throat. Of you burying it inside of me and fucking me hard into my mattress.” 

Draco trailed kisses down Harry’s chest and stomach, teeth grazing the soft flesh. Harry’s stomach fluttered at the sight of the Slytherin on his knees before him, and when Draco pulled back to look up at Harry, he very nearly came in his pants right then and there. 

“And do you want me to do that?” Draco whispered, thumbs pressing into Harry’s pelvis. “Do you want me to fuck you?” 

“Merlin, yes.” Harry breathed. 

Draco smirked and trailed a finger down Harry’s length, and Harry jerked a bit at the feel of being touched there. Per the contract, he hadn’t had any lovers for the year they had kept up their charade, and his hand only did so much. Suddenly, the finger was replaced by Draco’s mouth as he fit his lips over the bulge above Harry’s trousers, his tongue lapping at the cloth, dampening it as Harry shuddered beneath his ministrations. 

“ _Fuck_.” Harry groaned and titled his head back. 

Draco quickly unbuttoned the fabric and yanked, freeing Harry’s cock from its confines. The soft skin of Draco’s hand firmly enveloped him, and Harry looked down just in time to watch the pink lips of Draco- _Fucking_ -Malfoy wrap around his cock. 

He couldn’t help but buck forward, desperate for _more_ . Desperate for _Draco._ He had haunted his dreams for so long, and now that it was happening for real, Harry could barely contain his desire. 

Draco took him deep into his mouth, and Harry watched transfixed as he repeated the actions. The feel of his tongue pressing firmly against the underside of his cock as he bobbed his head was heaven, and just as Harry felt himself climb higher towards the tipping point, Draco pulled away with a wet _pop_.

“Don’t want you coming too quickly,” Draco said as he stood. “I have to make sure _all_ of your dreams come true.” 

Harry let out an audible growl at the words, standing tall to pull him into a heated kiss. He needed to taste Draco— _now._

Turning them, Harry pushed Draco against the table, pulling out his wand and slicing down the expensive silk shirt to pop open his buttons. Draco chuckled against his mouth but made no protest as Harry quickly worked open his trousers and dove his hand in to wrap around his considerable length. 

The size of him made Harry’s heart pump faster in his chest, and his own freed cock twitched against Draco’s leg. 

Harry chucked his wand to the table and stepped back, kneeling to pull Draco’s trousers down. A surprised laugh escaped his lips at the sight of the pants beneath them. 

“Are... are those ice cream cones?” 

Harry looked up to find a faint blush covering Draco’s cheeks, and a glare was levelled his way. “They’re Jamoca ice cream cones, for your information. Blaise bought them for me as a... gag gift one Christmas because he knows I love coffee ice cream. But jokes on _him_ because I quite like the boxers.” 

“I think they’re adorable,” Harry said, grinning as he pulled them down. The grin didn’t last long; as it disappeared the moment Harry took in the sight of the impressive cock before him. 

Merlin, he was _huge._

“And is that… _adorable_ , Potter?” Draco smirked, leaning back on his hands and shifting his hips forward. 

Harry couldn’t even form a retort as he wrapped his hand around the length. Draco was so vast that his fingertips didn’t even touch—Harry’s mouth watered. He’d only ever been with one man before, and he certainly did _not_ have a cock like that. 

Draco hissed in pleasure as Harry moved his hand up and down experimentally. His dreams certainly never prepared him for _this_ ; Draco hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he was immense. Licking his lips, he leant over to wrap them around the head of Draco’s pale cock. 

He tasted _divine_. 

The intoxicating flavour of the leaking precum filled every taste bud of Harry’s tongue as he swiped it over Draco’s cock. The width strained his jaw as he stretched to fit him in, but he didn’t care. The only thought flitting through his mind as he began to draw Draco deeper into his mouth was that he couldn’t wait to feel it stretch his arse wide. 

Breathing shallowly, Harry tried to take Draco as far as he could, barely managing to get half-way down before he gagged on the length. Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, nails scraping his scalp when he tried again. 

“Shit, Harry.” Draco groaned. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.” 

Harry moaned at his words, one hand gripping Draco’s thigh, the other wrapping itself around his own cock. Desperate for some type of release, he began to pump himself in time with the movement of his head. 

“Are you touching yourself, Potter?” Draco’s voice was raspy.

Harry looked up at him from behind his spectacles, aware of the picture he must make—thick cock still in his mouth, and hand around his own. 

Draco growled as he took him in, and he straightened, pulling Harry to stand and ripping their shirts from their arms. Now bare-chested, their naked skin flush against one another set Harry’s stomach fluttering as he was pulled into a searing kiss. 

Draco’s hand quickly found Harry’s cock, and Harry followed his lead, both of them pumping each other as their tongues danced together. Deep moans vibrated through Harry’s being, and he couldn’t tell which one of them it came from; his mind spun, and his legs quivered from the pleasure Draco’s calloused hands brought him.

Too much—it was too much. Harry was going to come, and Draco hadn’t even fucked him yet. 

“Draco,” Harry breathed as he pulled away. 

Draco wasted no time in claiming his neck, roughly nipping the skin and leaving what was sure to be impressive purple marks come the morning. His hand continued its rhythm on Harry’s cock even though Harry’s pace had slowed. 

“Please—” Harry choked out when Draco twisted his wrist and pumped faster. “Please fuck me, Draco.” 

“Not until you come all over my hand.” 

His knees buckled at the realisation that Draco meant for him to come first. 

Draco’s free arm wrapped around his back, twisting and pulling Harry firmly against his body. The large expanse of Draco’s cock pushed against his bare arse and sent Harry spiralling. As he bucked backwards against the impressive length, the head brushed against his entrance and with a sharp cry, he came, the force of it rendering him into jelly. 

Draco worked his cock through it all, pumping him gently and murmuring words of praise in his ear. 

“Such a good boy, Harry,” Draco whispered, nipping the back of his neck. “You came so much for me.” 

The words sent a shiver down his spine, and as he felt Draco’s length rub between his arse cheeks, desire began to stir in his belly once more. Merlin, he just wanted Draco to fill his arse and fuck him into the table. He said as much out loud, and Draco chuckled into his hair. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.” 

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “Draco, if you don’t bend me over the edge of this table right now then I suppose I’m just going to have to go back to that party and find some other bloke to shag me senseless—” 

With a sudden shift, Draco shoved him into the wood, the sharp edge digging into his hips as he was forcibly bent over it. Draco leant over him, whispering harshly into his ear. 

“If you want to be fucked that bad, Potter, then I’ll make sure no-one will ever measure up to what I can give you.” 

Draco’s weight disappeared, and Harry heard him mumble under his breath. Two lubricated fingers pressed against his entrance and Harry arched his back, indicating his eagerness for more. Already his cock began to stir back to life, and as Draco’s finger’s stretched him, Harry cried out and bucked forward, needing some type of friction—some kind of pressure.

“Are you getting hard already?” Draco asked, amusement evident in his tone. “Do you still want to go back to that party to find someone else to shag?” 

At the question, he curled his fingers inside Harry, pressing that spot inside to make him see stars. A sudden sharp slap to his arse cheek sent him lurching forward against the rough wood of the table. He whipped his head around to look at Draco, only to find him wearing a broad smirk. 

“I want an answer, Potter.” 

Harry glared and pushed his glasses up from where they had slid down the bridge of his nose from the forceful spank. “No.” 

“Good,” Draco replied, his eyes dancing with mischief as he added another finger. 

Harry couldn’t help but whimper at the burn of being so thoroughly stretched, and Draco began to rub soothing circles over the swell of his bum. 

Harry watched over his shoulder as Draco continued to pump his fingers; his pale cock, twitching and swollen, bobbed behind Harry and he found he couldn’t look away. Involuntary moans escaped his lips, and his eyes flicked up to meet Draco’s. The sight of those fiery grey eyes as Draco finger-fucked him caused something to stir deep in his belly. 

“Draco, please...” Harry whimpered. He needed the oversized cock buried inside of him; he needed to be fucked, and fucked properly. 

Chuckling, Draco slowly removed his fingers, and Harry let out another whimper at the emptiness they left behind. 

“You’ll be whimpering for an entirely different reason soon,” Draco retorted, mumbling another lubrication charm and rubbing the head of his cock against Harry’s stretched hole. 

Harry arched his back, goosebumps breaking over his skin in anticipation. He had dreamt of his moment for so long, in so many instances, and now it was finally happening. 

As Draco pushed inside of him, his arse stretched wider than Harry thought possible. Grunting at the burn of it, Draco persisted until he filled him. 

“Good Godric,” Harry whimpered, his voice squeaking at the strain. He felt fuller than he ever had, legs quivering as he was pushed further into the table, the legs screeching as it shifted minutely over the flagstone floor.

“You know,” Draco mumbled, shifting his hips and thrusting deeper. “I expected you to be some type of romantic. Needing candles and flowers and all that type of shite in order to be fucked.” 

Harry whined as he slid out slowly, feeling every inch of the length as it left him. 

“But here you are, being bent over your kitchen table and begging for my cock.” 

Harry propped himself on his hands; his elbows buckled as Draco filled him again, adjusting the stretch of his arse. His mouth was unable to form words in reply as the promised fucking truly began. 

It was the best feeling Harry had ever experienced. 

“Draco,” he finally managed, though he wanted to say much more than that. 

Draco grunted as he thrust firmly inside of him, slowly and with purpose, burying himself to the hilt. Harry bit out a sharp cry as he hit his prostate, his forgotten cock throbbing for release again. 

“Tell me what you want, Harry.” 

“I want you to fuck me; I want my arse to hurt so much I can’t sit tomorrow. _Please_.”

The words must have spurred something in Draco because he began to knock into Harry with such force, such speed that his arse cheeks slapped against smooth muscled thighs, the sound loud and reverberating in the cold stone kitchen.

“Touch yourself, Potter. Your arse feels― _ungh―_ so good; I’m not going to last much longer.” Draco’s voice was strained as he rocked into Harry, grip tight on his hips. 

Harry wasted no time in gripping himself, jerkily trying to wank his cock in time with Draco’s fierce thrusts. Their moans mixed in the warming air, and it wasn’t long before Harry felt his balls tighten with the ache of the impending release. 

“Draco, I’m going to— _fuck_ —”

“Come for me, Harry.” Draco moaned, “Come all over this table like a good boy.” 

Pumping faster, Harry shuddered as his orgasm wracked through his body, and cries of pleasure left him as he came for a second time. His legs turned to jelly beneath him, and he pressed his head to the table, not even caring that his stomach became smeared in his own fluids. 

Draco’s pace was relentless as he pounded into Harry, and he was sure that bruises would litter his hips tomorrow from the unyielding fingers. Lifting his hips higher, arching to provide Draco with a smoother movement, Harry listened to Draco’s murmured incoherency as he chased his own release. It didn’t take long for the deep moan to come, for Draco to bury himself as far as he could go as he spilt inside Harry’s arse. 

He stayed there, moving lazily as his cock continued to twitch with the aftermath of his orgasm. Harry could feel his cock slowly soften until Draco pulled from him and sprawled in a nearby chair with a huff. 

Harry grabbed his wand and cast a cleaning charm to rid themselves of the evidence―though his sore arse would remind him of this night for days to come. 

They stayed silent as Harry slowly stood and walked to grab his pants, sliding them up his quaking legs. 

“So,” Draco started as he watched Harry dress. 

“So,” Harry replied, glancing at Draco, still naked and unashamedly open. 

“I enjoyed myself immensely.” 

Harry felt his face heat, and he carefully sat down next to Draco, ignoring the delight that filled him as the pain still lingered in his arse. Taking one large hand in his, Harry replied, “I did too.” 

“What do you say to trying this out for real? Fuck the contract.” Draco’s voice came out small, as if he was afraid Harry would say no. 

Looking up at the Slytherin, Harry cupped his face with a smile and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Fuck the contract.” 

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him to his lap, Harry’s legs straddling him, and wrapped his free arm around Draco’s neck. As his tongue swiped against Harry’s bottom lip, he whimpered into Draco’s mouth. 

“Draco…I don’t have a third in me.” 

“Come on, Potter,” Draco grinned, gripping his arse cheeks and squeezing. “Third time’s the charm. Let’s go to your bedroom.”

As Draco recaptured his lips, Harry could feel him begin to harden against his arse. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, Harry acquiesced and stood, tugging on their joined hands with a grin to lead them upstairs to his room.

Later, as they lay wrapped together and satiated for the final time—that night—Harry didn’t mind that he dreamt of Draco- _Fucking_ -Malfoy. 

  
  



End file.
